


Zugzwang

by MidnightOverlord



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 05:37:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6106616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightOverlord/pseuds/MidnightOverlord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another one bits the dust. – <em>Queen </em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Zugzwang

Hunting comes naturally. Guns help, of course. He’s always liked them. Heavy and cold, they’re an anchoring presence. In this moment, beside the firelight, time stretches. He thinks back to that moment. Words spoken. Words _unspoken_. His hand in hers, them against the universe. For a moment… It cuts him deep, to know they’ve ravaged the very thing he’d set out to protect.

It’s difficult to think, focus. He hates loud noises. Shame is nothing new but regret doesn’t come to him naturally. The ground is far too cruel. With each passing day it’s become harder to ignore. Harder to cling to beliefs that made him stay. To put on the uniform, to serve and protect.

_Serve and protect. What a joke._

This is not his home. These are not his people.

—

Sleep never came easy to him, on the Ark. Earth is different. It tires him out. He dreams sometimes. Nightmares, where he’s mute. Silenced. It’s hard not to read into.

The screams are painful.

A means to an end. All he can do to remind himself. Just a means to an end.

He’s never believed himself less. 

—

It’s hard to breathe. The air is heavy.

In the distance, he sees them celebrating. The fire paints it sinister. It’s been a steady decent, looking back. A trail of broken promises to himself. He’s never wanted this. And he’s tired. So tired. But his hands are soiled and blood never washes off.

It is here, standing before the dead that the thought occurs. What’s one more in the ledger?

After all, the dead and the dying have peace. He needs to make his own.

As the pyre burns on, an idea is born.

**Author's Note:**

> It's a working title


End file.
